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More from Amiral Aesir
Who are they? She doesn't know. Why are they here? She prefers not to think about it. She begins to shiver, that's her final play. She knows that. The fear is now consuming her heart, and her tears doesn't help her to read the notes, and to play the Agnus Dei on the organ...
Not related to the main story
.... But directly related to a nightmare.
I was in the public, watching Bothan shaked by tears and her fear. It takes me a long minute to notice why she was so terrified. The public seems unfriendly. Is the fear to disappoint the public? No. She wouldn't be shaked by tears for such a reason. I notice that whatever I tried I couldn't move myself to support her, or to simply say that I'm here, close to her. I'm here, I'm with you Bothan, don't worry, everything will be okay!. Nothing but the silence. Why the public doesn't encourage her? Sobs were the only things that I hear in that cathedral. She puts her hand on the medal that Fox gave her before his sacrifices and seems to find the courage to finally play.
The Toccata
Her first piece, a toccata, was just wonderfully done. Perfect, and that makes me shivers, the organ takes me to heaven with the celestial sounds. Her first fear seems even to have vanished, and she seems to enjoy her play more than the public shows its interest. Something in her smile was like a challenge to the unfriendly public, like You don't like it? I enjoy it whatever you're douche bags. She finishes her tune in a complete indifference from the public. I couldn't think but a why the heck are you here then, if that's not to enjoy wonderful organ tunes?.
The lack of interest seems to hurt Bothan again. I try to applaude her skills, to support her again, but nothing. I can't move, as at the beginning of that scene. Sadly I just can see her completely lose in her thoughts. The notes indicate Agnus Dei for her last play. I think that's a special version of the Samuel Barber's Adagio, but I'm not sure. That supposes to be for strings, or for vocals, not for organ.
Whatever, she begins to plays.
Agnus Dei
That's it. Adagio. Like I thought. Nothing has changed, her skills continue to surprise me, but I sense her stress, her fear. There is nothing to fear Bothan! She can't hear me. No one can... She finally miss a key, resulting in a wrong note. Someone in the public uses his taser to punish her, she shortly interrupts her play to recover from that sudden attack, and continues the tune, supressing her moans of pain. Another key missed. My neighbour throw her a stone, then another. I try to stop him, but I still can't move. She continues to play the Agnus Dei despite the rain of stones... The more she receives stones, the more she miss keys, resulting in a rebellion in the public. Someone use an bow to deadly hit her with arrows, another uses his gun, all uses theirs tasers, weapons, throwing everything on her.
Mise à mort. To put her to death. That's why they are here...
No! NOOOOOO!!! I try to move, to protect her, to cover her with my body, but it's like I'm in chains! The only thing which I'm able to do is to see her slowly falling to the keys. Is that her proudness, but she desesperately tries to finsih her tune. She's so close to. Final sheet, she successes. And collapses on the keys, bringing a surnatural howl in the cathedral. Her last song. I finally can move and run as fast as possible close to her. Her eyes are already empty of life, but she manages to say her last words. Je suis désolée... Pardonne moi... (I'm sorry... Forgive me...). I take her in my arms, trying anything in my power to heal the bounds. Useless. She passes away... The public, or those murderers, aren't here anymore. They disappeared when I was focused on Bothan's health. The only thing I could do now is to close her eyes... Farewell...
Wake up. That nightmare has an important meaning, I'm sure of it. Begin to think about it. It doesn't take me a long time before I figure it out...
Kitsune Bothan © Amiral Aesir
Lined the 3rd December 2007. Watercolors and pencils the 26th December 2007.
Not related to the main story
.... But directly related to a nightmare.
I was in the public, watching Bothan shaked by tears and her fear. It takes me a long minute to notice why she was so terrified. The public seems unfriendly. Is the fear to disappoint the public? No. She wouldn't be shaked by tears for such a reason. I notice that whatever I tried I couldn't move myself to support her, or to simply say that I'm here, close to her. I'm here, I'm with you Bothan, don't worry, everything will be okay!. Nothing but the silence. Why the public doesn't encourage her? Sobs were the only things that I hear in that cathedral. She puts her hand on the medal that Fox gave her before his sacrifices and seems to find the courage to finally play.
The Toccata
Her first piece, a toccata, was just wonderfully done. Perfect, and that makes me shivers, the organ takes me to heaven with the celestial sounds. Her first fear seems even to have vanished, and she seems to enjoy her play more than the public shows its interest. Something in her smile was like a challenge to the unfriendly public, like You don't like it? I enjoy it whatever you're douche bags. She finishes her tune in a complete indifference from the public. I couldn't think but a why the heck are you here then, if that's not to enjoy wonderful organ tunes?.
The lack of interest seems to hurt Bothan again. I try to applaude her skills, to support her again, but nothing. I can't move, as at the beginning of that scene. Sadly I just can see her completely lose in her thoughts. The notes indicate Agnus Dei for her last play. I think that's a special version of the Samuel Barber's Adagio, but I'm not sure. That supposes to be for strings, or for vocals, not for organ.
Whatever, she begins to plays.
Agnus Dei
That's it. Adagio. Like I thought. Nothing has changed, her skills continue to surprise me, but I sense her stress, her fear. There is nothing to fear Bothan! She can't hear me. No one can... She finally miss a key, resulting in a wrong note. Someone in the public uses his taser to punish her, she shortly interrupts her play to recover from that sudden attack, and continues the tune, supressing her moans of pain. Another key missed. My neighbour throw her a stone, then another. I try to stop him, but I still can't move. She continues to play the Agnus Dei despite the rain of stones... The more she receives stones, the more she miss keys, resulting in a rebellion in the public. Someone use an bow to deadly hit her with arrows, another uses his gun, all uses theirs tasers, weapons, throwing everything on her.
Mise à mort. To put her to death. That's why they are here...
No! NOOOOOO!!! I try to move, to protect her, to cover her with my body, but it's like I'm in chains! The only thing which I'm able to do is to see her slowly falling to the keys. Is that her proudness, but she desesperately tries to finsih her tune. She's so close to. Final sheet, she successes. And collapses on the keys, bringing a surnatural howl in the cathedral. Her last song. I finally can move and run as fast as possible close to her. Her eyes are already empty of life, but she manages to say her last words. Je suis désolée... Pardonne moi... (I'm sorry... Forgive me...). I take her in my arms, trying anything in my power to heal the bounds. Useless. She passes away... The public, or those murderers, aren't here anymore. They disappeared when I was focused on Bothan's health. The only thing I could do now is to close her eyes... Farewell...
Wake up. That nightmare has an important meaning, I'm sure of it. Begin to think about it. It doesn't take me a long time before I figure it out...
Kitsune Bothan © Amiral Aesir
Lined the 3rd December 2007. Watercolors and pencils the 26th December 2007.
Category All / All
Species Vulpine (Other)
Size 1200 x 841px
File Size 283.1 kB
Oui, il doit y avoir une signification profonde, les cauchemars sont là lorsque l'esprit est troublé et n'arrive pas à trouver de solution à un problème. Tu sembles te poser la question, mais je sais que tu as déjà trouvé plusieurs éléments de réponse. Ce cauchemar, à mon sens, fait directement écho à tes relations avec les autres, dans les deux sens. Bothan, personnage auquel tu éprouves un grand attachement, c'est toi bien sûr, tu te sens différent des autres (apparence non 100% humaine) car tu n'arrives pas à interagir confortablement. Le public qui reste sans broncher et semble peu amène, ce sont toutes ces relations qui se sont mal terminées dans ton passé et qui t'empêche de donner ta confiance. Ta présence qui ne peut la réconforter, c'est soit une partie de toi qui tente de surmonter ton problème sans le pouvoir/vouloir, soit un appel à l'aide vers quelqu'un d'autre, mais personne ne semble pouvoir faire quoi que ce soit.
La musique, tu le dis toi-même, c'est ce qui lui plaît, comme toi le dessin, elle/tu peut/x s/t'exprimer à travers cet art, et vous voulez vous persuader que vous n'avez rien à faire si les autres s'en moquent, ne comprennent pas. Mais la réaction du public, "l'absence d'intérêt qui blesse Bothan" comme tu le dis montre que ce n'est pas vrai, que vous voudriez au moins être reconnu pour la beauté de ce que vous faites, mais que vos spectateurs ne le font pas. Et tu ne peux rien faire pour elle car toi-même tu es bloqué, noyé dans cette masse pesante et amorphe, ou bien tu sens qu'il n'y a rien à faire, que vous êtes deux facettes d'une même personne et que t'applaudir toi-même finalement ne mènera à rien, que ce n'est pas ça que tu cherches. Tu es déchiré entre être avec les autres et adopter leur comportement indifférent et blessant, et te replier sur toi-même, mais tu sais que ça n'est pas une solution non plus. Ce qui conduit à ce dédoublement de personnalité dans ton rêve. Car c'est bien toi qui ressens toutes ces émotions à travers ces deux personnages.
La fausse note. La peur de faire quelque chose d'incorrect, qui donnera prise aux autres pour te punir, te blesser physiquement et/ou dans ton bien le plus précieux, dans ton art. Encore une fois, tu ne peux rien faire contre cette masse hargneuse, tu te sens impuissant face aux autres. Et tu te dis que si tu les déçois, ça va être la spirale infernale, ça va aller de pire en pire. Tu ressens le monde extérieur, les gens comme une menace, une menace mortelle pour ton intégrité autant physique que morale. Et tu es impuissant face à ce sentiment. "Je suis désolée, pardonne-moi" sont les mots que tu te dis à toi-même car tu te dis avoir échoué dans ta quête de reconnaissance par les autres à travers ton art - mais aussi de n'avoir pu te protéger toi-même PHYSIQUEMENT des autres, avec inversion des rôles (assez courante en psychologie d'après ce que j'ai pu lire) puisque c'est toi -Bothan- meurtrie dans sa chair qui t'excuse auprès de toi -l'humain- toujours valide pour n'avoir pas pu protéger ton propre corps - et tu sais à quoi celà fait référence, tu l'as évoqué un jour. Tu as échoué dans ta quête d'exister au yeux des autres, en fait, tout simplement.
Voilà ce que je retire de ton rêve, qui je le sais, va chercher très très loin et profondément dans ton passé et tes relations. Tu as beaucoup de travail pour tenter de digérer ça (car tu ne pourras totalement l'évacuer), et il te faut l'aide des autres. Mais il faut pour celà que tu le veuilles toi-même, car tu sais que ce sera un très douloureux chemin à effectuer.
La musique, tu le dis toi-même, c'est ce qui lui plaît, comme toi le dessin, elle/tu peut/x s/t'exprimer à travers cet art, et vous voulez vous persuader que vous n'avez rien à faire si les autres s'en moquent, ne comprennent pas. Mais la réaction du public, "l'absence d'intérêt qui blesse Bothan" comme tu le dis montre que ce n'est pas vrai, que vous voudriez au moins être reconnu pour la beauté de ce que vous faites, mais que vos spectateurs ne le font pas. Et tu ne peux rien faire pour elle car toi-même tu es bloqué, noyé dans cette masse pesante et amorphe, ou bien tu sens qu'il n'y a rien à faire, que vous êtes deux facettes d'une même personne et que t'applaudir toi-même finalement ne mènera à rien, que ce n'est pas ça que tu cherches. Tu es déchiré entre être avec les autres et adopter leur comportement indifférent et blessant, et te replier sur toi-même, mais tu sais que ça n'est pas une solution non plus. Ce qui conduit à ce dédoublement de personnalité dans ton rêve. Car c'est bien toi qui ressens toutes ces émotions à travers ces deux personnages.
La fausse note. La peur de faire quelque chose d'incorrect, qui donnera prise aux autres pour te punir, te blesser physiquement et/ou dans ton bien le plus précieux, dans ton art. Encore une fois, tu ne peux rien faire contre cette masse hargneuse, tu te sens impuissant face aux autres. Et tu te dis que si tu les déçois, ça va être la spirale infernale, ça va aller de pire en pire. Tu ressens le monde extérieur, les gens comme une menace, une menace mortelle pour ton intégrité autant physique que morale. Et tu es impuissant face à ce sentiment. "Je suis désolée, pardonne-moi" sont les mots que tu te dis à toi-même car tu te dis avoir échoué dans ta quête de reconnaissance par les autres à travers ton art - mais aussi de n'avoir pu te protéger toi-même PHYSIQUEMENT des autres, avec inversion des rôles (assez courante en psychologie d'après ce que j'ai pu lire) puisque c'est toi -Bothan- meurtrie dans sa chair qui t'excuse auprès de toi -l'humain- toujours valide pour n'avoir pas pu protéger ton propre corps - et tu sais à quoi celà fait référence, tu l'as évoqué un jour. Tu as échoué dans ta quête d'exister au yeux des autres, en fait, tout simplement.
Voilà ce que je retire de ton rêve, qui je le sais, va chercher très très loin et profondément dans ton passé et tes relations. Tu as beaucoup de travail pour tenter de digérer ça (car tu ne pourras totalement l'évacuer), et il te faut l'aide des autres. Mais il faut pour celà que tu le veuilles toi-même, car tu sais que ce sera un très douloureux chemin à effectuer.
I do remember this piece being submitted a while ago. It's just as deep and as mournful now as it was than.
Is it bad that just seeing their soulless faces and knowing of their hatred and murderous ways makes me want to beat them mercilessly on sight? Or am I not the only one who would pull the trigger of a large caliber gun at point blank range into their heartless bodies?
Is it bad that just seeing their soulless faces and knowing of their hatred and murderous ways makes me want to beat them mercilessly on sight? Or am I not the only one who would pull the trigger of a large caliber gun at point blank range into their heartless bodies?
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